


let me come home.

by lushology



Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: Dreams, First POV, M/M, not obx specific, pope or jj pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:15:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26653525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lushology/pseuds/lushology
Summary: Where is home?I don’t know.  Not here.  Right here.  A thousand miles away.  I never had a home.
Relationships: JJ/Pope (Outer Banks)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	let me come home.

You go to your room. There’s people in the hallway. I go to mine. I sit on the bed, wait for you. My leg aches under the scar but I swallow it down, it doesn’t matter. The pillows are slumped against the headboard, I didn’t leave them like that, you did. One pillow is folded in half, the same way you do. The duvet cover is blue, white spots starting in one corner and spreading out across the whole cover. The bed is too large for one person, just right for the bother of us. I can hear talking outside the door and I focus on that.

Lee, someone is saying. Please don’t be mad.

A woman’s voice: Why not? You are an _asshole._

The woman- Lee - has an accent I can’t place. The man says: I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

No, you’re not, Lee says. You’re only sorry I won’t sleep with you again.

They walk too far for me to hear the rest. A moment later, I hear heels on the hardwood floor, then what are distinctly your footsteps. The hallway is dark when you open the door and close it softly. You’re wearing my sweater. A green one I thought I lost months ago. Violet sent it to me and maybe you forgot or maybe you don’t care, it doesn’t matter to me. 

You sit down next to me and take my hand. Is your leg okay, you ask. I shrug, because that seems to be enough. It’s dangerous like this, with only a few days before we have to go back but sitting here, it’s more than worth the risk, going back half healed and thrown back into battle like toys thrown into a bath that’s mostly bubbles. I lay down, I don’t feel like talking.

You lay against me. The air is cold, I didn’t notice before. I wish I had my sweater, the one you’re wearing (I’ve never wished this before.) I shut my eyes, shut you and the room out.

* * *

I dream. It’s becoming more and more uncommon. For a while, I thought I could no longer dream.

There is one road splitting two endless yellow fields. There is nobody, only me. At the edge of it all, as though surrounding the open space, is forest so dense it looks black. It’s windy, the wheat is moving but the air around me feels still. I have a bag. I’m wearing clothing that isn’t mine, that I never owned. There is nothing in the bag but it feels almost too heavy to carry. The boots I’m wearing are ripped apart, the shoelaces acting like glue, the only thing holding them together. I feel itchy. _Where?_ Everywhere. 

There is nothing to do so I walk. The paving of the road is uneven and with each step, I kick up more and more loose rock. I walk for hours and I go nowhere, the sky stays bright and the forest doesn’t get any closer. 

There is a barn. One of the walls has fallen over and the rest is on the verge of collapsing. It’s red all around, the roof is black, going grey. There isn’t anything in it, not hints of past animals or growth or people. It is just me. There is straw on the ground, looking too new for an abandoned barn.

I feel itchy. I pull open the jacket I’m wearing, the buttoned shirt that isn’t mine. My stomach is infested with maggots, pulling at flesh and leaving me hollow. Maybe I should go home.

_Where is home?_ I don’t know. Not here. Right here. A thousand miles away. I never had a home. 

I take my jacket off. There’s a daisy in the corner, hidden by straw. I leave the bark and keep walking.

It should be night but the sky is still blue and the sun is still golden. There’s a bed on the side of the road. That isn’t my bed but it’s my blanket. The pillows are folded the same way yours are. 

I sleep. I wake up. I am surrounded by poppies, red and green.

Let me come home.

_Where is home._

You are not here. I am utterly lost. You are home and you are not here. I must go home. 

**Author's Note:**

> follow my tumblr midsommers for more!


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